


A Merrier World

by writerllofllworlds



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Peter Parker, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Peter Parker Feels, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark loves Peter Parker so freaking much, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23941315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerllofllworlds/pseuds/writerllofllworlds
Summary: Peter swallowed. "I'm not an adult yet, you're right. But don't you dare imply that I don't understand the crushing weight of this life. Don't you dare think that I will ever forget that look on Ben's face. Don't you dare treat me like some helpless little child, who doesn't grasp nightmares and trauma and hatred. I know them well. They're unofficial roommates to me, they're familiar in every way."He rolled back his shoulders, and he could not feel the pain."I'm a hero. I don't need your permission."
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 15
Kudos: 695





	A Merrier World

**Author's Note:**

> The title of course comes from The Hobbit, because I'm a massive nerd.  
> "“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”
> 
> Gotta love me some BAMF Peter Parker. Ain't enough of it ya'll.  
> ALSO I don't hate team Cap. I love team Cap. Just FYI. Also, Irondad cuddles? Yes please. 
> 
> This takes place in a universe where May died sometime between Homecoming and Infinity War, the Snap only lasted a year, and Tony has adopted the Spiderbaby. 
> 
> Love you all 3000!

They were not supposed to find out this way.

Tony and Peter had discussed how to reveal his identity to the other Avengers countless times. Rhodey knew, of course, but besides the beloved Colonel, none of the other heroes were aware of the identity of their youngest member. They all thought he was some young man, fighting for what was right. None of them knew that he was a seventeen-year-old orphan whom Tony Stark had adopted after his aunt died. They did not know that he and Tony's son were one and the same. They did not know that the "Peter kid" they claimed to know so well, was one and the same with the web-slinging hero. He and Tony had come up with different strategies, plans, cool surprise parties. Every situation came to the same answer.

It was not like he and Tony had deliberately kept it from them. It was a side effect of Peter's ingrained sense of keeping those he loved safe. Since he had started when he was fifteen, he had convinced himself that no one could find out. His actions followed such a mentality. So, when Tony adopted him and he moved into the Tower with the Avengers, he just continued doing things like using his window to enter his room, stashing his Spider suit. At some point he realized that he and Tony probably should have prefaced such important information fairly early on. They were in too deep now, and at this point it was kind of a game to see who would figure it out first.

They would _not_ be happy.

However, to say they found out in the middle of a large battle that was raging across Manhattan (just like the good old days) when he had ripped his mask off to make sure his guardian wasn't dead, tears and blood streaming down his face, didn’t do him any favors.

"At least they're colorful this time!" he could hear the jubilation in his voice as he shot another web at one of the creatures, catapulting himself into the air and grabbing onto one of their aircrafts. He attached a web grenade to the ship and then whooped back into the sky. An explosion rocked across the sky, sending a chain effect across the other small ships. Oh, he loved the EMP grenades. "Last time they were all just fifty shades of grey!"

He heard groans across the comm channel.

"And I thought we might be able to rap this fight up without any stupid puns," Natasha muttered darkly. Peter could just make her out as he fell towards the street. Her and Cap were side by side, as per usual, and being badass, as per usual. He attached a web to a nearby building and swung over to offer his assistance.

"You should never assume so much, Nat!" Clint shouted from some rooftop, the exclamation followed by another explosion in the sky. Bomb arrows. "We're talking about Spiderman here."

"You all secretly love my puns, you just won't admit it!" He narrowly dodged a strike and felt in his soul rather than heard Tony's worried hum.

"Less talking, more focusing on the dangerous aliens, Spiderman."

"Sorry, Mr. Stark!"

He was Mr. Stark on the field, not Tony or God forbid, _dad_.

Do not blame Peter. Habits are hard to break.

"Yeah, yeah, I just don't want to have to repair that suit aga- ARGHH!"

Immediately, Peter's heart leaped into his throat. Visions of Thanos swept across his mind and panic began to seize him. Not again, not again, not again, not again. He jerked his head to the sound of Tony's pained scream. Distracted, he swung right into the side of a parking garage. His vision temporarily went dark, that dreadful shout tearing through his chest like a knife. When he came to, his breathing was wet and heavy. He could taste iron. Karen was yelling injuries at him, but he shook his head. His vision was not blurry enough that he could not see, so it was alright. He immediately stumbled back to his feet. "Get me a path to Tony, now!"

His AI obeyed silently, the areas on his body that were hurt still outlined on his screen. He pointedly ignored them. He did not matter, not after that awful sound. Not after hearing his father's calm and tender and king voice make that terrible screeching noise that would haunt Peter for months. He whisked by the Hulk as he threw himself at one of the mother ships. How could any of them keep fighting? Tony was down! Tony was hurt!

He landed (see: crashed) in a burning street, absent of all civilians. Not that that would have mattered.

Not when his dad was bleeding out on the street with a giant alien standing over his body.

Peter's vision went red and he did what he did best.

He fought.

Launching himself at the creature, he activated his lightning webs. He and Tony had not figured out how to get them not to shock Peter as well as his enemy, but he'd bite the bullet. He stuck to the thing's slimy red back and let the electricity arc through the both of them. The monster screeched, high pitched and deafening. Clifford the big red Fucker grabbed his ankle and threw him into the air. Peter flipped and flicked his wrist, swinging out of the way just in time to avoid its giant claws. It did not have one of those venomous purple tongues. Perfect. As long as this dude wasn't anywhere near Tony, Peter could fry its brains out until the cows came home.

Peter had experienced this kind of concentration before. When the battlefield quieted, and nothing mattered but one opponent. When you had something so important that you had to protect that you could take all the pain, you could be hit again and again, and it would not matter. You could not feel it in the face of the fear of losing that person.

It was when he was most dangerous, Tony had said once. When there was only one thing left to lose.

Peter smirked darkly behind his mask.

Good. He wanted dangerous.

Clifford jumped after him, but Peter kept dodging out of the way. Little by little, he led him further and further up the nearest skyscraper. He had to get him into the air. Up, up, up, a swing here, a web grenade there. Keep his attention on Peter, nothing else. Suddenly there was no more building to crawl up and Peter grinned, shooting up into the air. "HEY CLIFFORD! FETCH!"

The alien followed, stupidly, and its wings spread to lift it into the air. Peter flicked his wrist, web gripping its front left leg and he was pulled in close. Perfect. When he was close enough, he activated his lightning webs and dug his fingers into the beast's jaws. One of its fangs tore through his suit and went into his forearm, but he ignored it. Karen set off the specialty webs and the creature _howled_.

A dark kind of satisfaction swept through him as the alien's orange eyes glowed with the energy coursing through his entire body. This time, Peter held on long enough to watch the creature literally burn from the inside out. Thankfully, his suit was just shock absorbent enough that he did not do the same, and he let go just in time. He pushed away from Clifford and fell towards the ground, towards Tony.

The alien's body hit some rooftop, but Peter didn't pay it any mind. It was dead. From the vitals displayed on his screen, Tony was not. He was going to do everything he could to keep it that way. His vison had cleared slightly, and he continued to ignore the growing pain in his head from when he had hit the building earlier. Probably a concussion, and there was definitely blood all over his face. He landed without any semblance of grace and limped over to his guardian, tearing off his mask as he stumbled towards the torn open Iron Man suit. Tony was out cold. Breathing, thank God, but unconscious.

He collapsed beside the man, harshly pulling away the remainder of the titanium allow shell; It was scraps now anyway. "Tony? Tony, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

The built-up fear he had been harboring surfaced. His throat tightened. "Tony? Tony, can you hear me? It's Peter. It's - It's Peter, Tony. I'm here to rescue you."

Nothing. Not a sound besides the strained breathing of his mentor. The kid's hands began to shake. "Tony, you need to wake up. Please, I need to know you're okay."

It was not working. Usually, Peter pleading caused Tony to be on high alert. He hated hearing Peter sound so afraid.

"D-Dad? You're scaring me."

As if he had said the password or uttered a magic spell, Tony's eyes fluttered open. Only for second, but it was enough. They fell shut again, but Peter did not feel like vomiting and terror anymore, so he would count it as a win. He scanned his person and let out a giant sigh of relief. As far as he could tell, there was nothing life threatening.

Almost immediately, Karen confirmed it. "Mr. Stark has received no fatal injuries, Peter. As long as you get him medical assistance within three hours, there will be no lasting effects."

He nodded, shoulders losing some of their adrenaline-fueled tightness. "Good. And me?"

"Your wounds are not life threatening either, Peter. The lacerations on your arm and head have already begun to heal. If you receive proper rest and nourishment, they will scar over by Thursday evening. I advise not going on patrol within the time period of the next three days."

The sounds of battle were dying down. Peter snorted. "You got it, Karen."

Rhodey's concerned voice appeared above him. "Spiderman? How is he?"

He landed, and his faceplate flew open. The Colone's eyes widened and he immediately sprinted towards the teenager. "Oh, God, how are _you_? You're covered in blood, Pete! What hit you?!"

He waved his hands. "Mine aren't bad, Rhodey, but I need you to get Tony to the medbay. He'll be alright, but I think he might have a concussion and his bionic arm needs looking at. You can get there faster than I can. I'll hitch a ride with Thor or something."

"Peter?"

Oh shit.

That was Cap's voice.

Shit, shit, Clifford the Big Red Fuckery Fuck.

His mask lay abandoned on some crushed concrete. His disguise was gone.

Well, time to face the music.

Rhodey swallowed, but as soon as he saw Peter's gaze, he stooped down and gently picked up his best friend. With the care of someone holding a child, he gathered the man into his arms and, after nodding once to his adopted godson, flew off towards the Tower.

He could feel the others' eyes on him. He did not want to turn. Alas, turn he must. The icy blue glare of Captain America was the first thing he saw, and for the first time he understood why people were afraid of him. He could imagine a battlefield like this one, seventy years ago, when the bodies that lined the streets were not alien but man, human, just like them. Where gunfire was heard instead of thunder rumbling from a magic hammer or the roar of a gamma monster. Where Captain America's shield was the best protection one could ever hope to see. Those blue eyes and that glare would have stricken him with terror then. They almost did now. Worse, though, was Clint's anguished gaze. Hawkeye had kids of his own. Peter understood, in some detached way, the horror that filled his eyes. Peter could not imagine what it would feel like to see Cooper or Lila out here, risking their lives. The thought alone made his heart ache. Or maybe that was the bruise he was already feeling under his suit. Natasha was glaring, but that was expected. Bruce was nowhere to be seen, and Peter suspected he was still rampaging around as the Big Guy. Thor simply looked on with a fond curiosity, like he had expected it somehow, and he was the first one to speak.

"I suppose I shall have to start calling you 'Boy of Spiders' now, young Peter!" He stalked over, heavy footfalls the most comforting sound to the young hero in that moment. A heavy hand was slammed on his shoulder, and he bit back a groan of pain and managed a shaky smile. "You have deceived us all quiet well, Little Hero! My brother should ask you to be his apprentice!"

"I'm not sure Tony would approve of me being mentored by the god of mischief, though I appreciate the offer," He chuckled nervously, walking over to retrieve his mask. The battle had ended and that meant reporters and cameras. Before he could shove the protective helmet back on, Steve grabbed his wrist.

"We're talking about this as soon as cleanup is done."

It was an order. "Shocker."

It was clear that Steve did not like the sass, which hurt a little bit. Out of all the Avengers, Rogers had always been the one who smirked at his sarcasm or apathetic jokes. He was from the World War II era; he understood Peter's Gen Z humor. Except now, it seemed.

Peter simply nodded and went to help the arriving SHIELD agents. It was going to be a long afternoon.

He really thought about running to his room when Thor dropped him on the balcony of the common area, but then he imagined an angry Natasha Romanoff breaking down his door and decided against it. He already had enough nightmares to deal with. A furious Russian redhead did not need to be added to that list. Thor, to his amazing credit, had no beef with Peter, and retreated to his room with the promise that he would have to inquire further into Peter's "spider magic" at a later time. Peter, of course, agreed.

The others weren't so… thrilled.

"So, Peter." Bruce was the one to start. That was a good choice. They knew he would not run from Bruce. "You're Spiderman."

"Spiderboy," Natasha snapped.

"Spider _man_ ," Peter amended, not harshly, but firmly. He was seated at the counter in the community kitchen. His leg was aching.

"Nuh uh, brat," she clicked her tongue without any of her usual warmth. "You don't get to call yourself Spider _man_ until you're eighteen."

"Shame I've been doing it since this whole hero shindig started," he copied her crossed arm stance, rolling his shoulders. His wounds had already begun healing themselves and his head had completely cleared. He was _so_ ready for this conversation.

"You don't have a right to be out there, Parker," she used his last name. May's last name. They all knew he went by Peter Stark since his birthday. That was low. "We don't need a little nerd who always sees the best in people. You're going to get yourself killed."

"Been there, done that," He was not smiling. "Didn't agree with me."

Clint choked. "You died."

Peter narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slowly. "That is what I just said, yes."

"No, no, Thanos snapped you. You were dead for a _year_ , Peter."

He swallowed, the first of panic's burning tendrils making its way up his spine. No, no, he was not there. Tony had saved him. His father had gotten him _back_. "I know. I was there."

"Why is it you?" Steve's voice was surprisingly sad. When Peter met his eyes, he saw an oddly large amount of regret. "You're so… Peter."

He wondered if that was a compliment. "Is it so shocking to find out it was me? To be honest, I'm kind of floored that none of you figured this out earlier."

Steve's hands fisted at his side. "Maybe we just didn't think Stark would ever lower himself to a position where he would send his own son into a battlefie-,"

"Shut up." Anger boiled within him. They had no idea. They did not have a clue how much Tony loved him, how many times Tony had tried to get him to stop. "It's not Tony's fault. I started this before he met me."

"What?!" Clint yelled. "How old were you?"

Peter cringed at the sudden and large increase in volume. "Fifteen. Geez."

"Fifteen? What the hell, Peter!"

"Oh, you're going to tell me that if you got superpowers as a teenager you wouldn't have tried to be a superhero?" he shifted his weight, throwing the archer an incredulous look. "Even if I hadn't had motivation, I would have ended up like this."

"Motivation?" Natasha growled. "What the hell kind of motivation do you consider efficient for a fourteen-year-old kid to throw on a sui-,"

"Fifteen," Peter interrupted, the situation suddenly very, very familiar. "And I knew what I was doing."

"Oh, did you?" Steve's worried face morphed into one of rage. "What about now, Pete? What's going to happen when you're too trusting, like you are," Beck. "Or when your inexperience ends up hurting you or someone else?" Ben. "What happens when you go up against an opponent you can't beat?" Thanos.

Peter's gaze dropped to his fingers resting against the cold marble. "I deal with it."

"Deal with it?" Bruce's concerned tone wormed its way into his heart. "Peter, you're a teenager. You shouldn't have to deal with this kind of stuff. We're here to protect you and-,"

"Where were you when Thanos came?" He asked quietly. It was a question he would heard Tony ask them before. Where had they been when he and Tony and Strange had been on that orange planet? Where had they been when Peter had become dust on the wind? Where had they been when he had died? "Did you protect me then? No. I protected myself."

"Tony protected you-,"

"Yeah, and I protected him, because none of you were here, Spangles," he snarled. He could still see Tony's shattered expression when he returned from Siberia. That broken, glazed look would never leave his mind. It struck again every time Tony had a nightmare where a shield was slammed into his chest or a metal arm was wrapped around his neck. Peter knew Tony protected him, just like he protected Tony, because all they had was each other. Everyone else had abandoned them. "None of you were here, none of you were heroes. Someone like me came along to fill the gap you left."

"Oh, don't be an idiot," Natasha scowled, walking over to slam her hand on the countertop. Peter did not flinch. "You're a child, Parker, a child. You haven't even lost all your baby fat and you still complain about how many freckles you have when you go outside for too long. You don't have the skill, the experience, or frankly, the knowledge or insights to be a hero. You-!"

"I'm not an idiot," He whispered. The room silenced immediately. "I'm not some broken little kid that you all "picked up" off the side of the road. I'm not some problem for you to fix."

He struggled to stand, pushing away the worried hands that reached out to steady him.

"I'm a person. I'm a seventeen-year-old who-,"

"That's just it, Kid," Rogers spat, but Peter knew that the anger was not really directed at him. "You're seventeen. Seventeen. You can't even apply for the army yet and you're out there every day, risking your life for villains. You have no idea how dark this life can be, kid, and I know you-,"

"Did you know I was raped when I was eight?"

No one spoke. No one breathed.

For a brief moment, Peter lamented the fact that he had to use rape as a method of making these arrogant heroes see he was not some fragile baby bird, but he digresses. "Yep! Ripe old age of eight, for _seven months_. I was all innocent and trusting. I saw the best in people," he deliberately sneered, hoping to high heaven that Natasha Romanoff could see the sarcasm falling from his tongue like poison. "I had no idea how bad life could be or how dangerous humans really are, and my babysitter raped me."

He had expected someone to interject, but no one did. So, he continued.

"My parents died when I was four, and that's sad and all, but it's not important because I don't remember them - that's what the kids at school say. Oh yeah! I have been bullied for... forever, actually. First day of kindergarten a kid broke my glasses in front of my face and then told the teacher I did it for attention. Um, I've been kicked down stairs, pushed into walls, insulted in every way you can possibly imagine. One kid almost killed me during eighth grade, actually, just because he could and I was _there_. Left me in an alley to bleed out like my uncle had."

He lit up mockingly, eyebrows raising in fake elation. "Oh yeah! My uncle was shot and killed in front of my very eyes, and it was my fault! I got to see the life leave his eyes, the soul leave his body, all that bullshit they put in films to make death sound beautiful. It wasn't beautiful. It was horrifying. My uncle choked on his own blood and I got a front row seat to it."

Peter took a step closer, righteous fury filling him and calming his senses. This was true anger, he thought. This was anger, when the world became so detailed and high definition. This was anger, when at any other time he would have been having a sensory overload, yet here every sound and taste and touch and smell and sight was known to him. This was anger, when his voice was so steady and sure that it would have made him afraid. 

This was fury.

"I had a building dropped on me when I was fifteen. No suit, no fancy AI or spy equipment. I wasn't a god or a giant green creature. I was fifteen and I had no one and nothing. So, what did I do? Yeah, I cried. I screamed, because I'm a _child_ ," he grinned mockingly, tipping his head to the side. He hoped every ounce of exasperation and annoyance could be seen engraved into his widely spread teeth. "And then?"

The silence was so powerful.

"Then I lifted it. Because I had a job to do. Because I'm a hero, and heroes get back up. Heroes don't put themselves first, they don't insult and berate their comrades, they don't treat them like they're inferior or worth less. They're _heroes_."

Peter swallowed. "I'm not an adult yet, you're right. But don't you dare imply that I don't understand the crushing weight of this life. Don't you dare think that I will ever forget that look on Ben's face. Don't you dare treat me like some helpless little child, who doesn't grasp nightmares and trauma and hatred. I know them well. They're unofficial roommates to me, they're familiar in every way."

He rolled back his shoulders, and he could not feel the pain.

"I'm a hero. I don't need your permission."

And with that, he left them to stew in their darkness. Peter would no longer be apart of their toxic opinions. He had worked too damn hard at therapy to let them ruin his newfound confidence. They were not worth that, not if they treated him like that.

A wrist grabbed his. He almost threw the offender into the air. The trembling voice stopped him.

"Why?"

He looked up at Clint and once again saw the fatherly sorrow that lingered there. His anger softened at the edges. "Because, when you can do what I can, and you don't, and then the bad things happen? They happen because of you."

He was on third chapter of _The Hobbit_ when Tony woke up. The billionaire coughed softly, and Peter could not help the smile that slid across his lips. He gently closed the book and shifted closer, leaning over the hospital bed. Those brown eyes that almost perfectly matched his fluttered open, and though they were laced with exhaustion and pain, as soon as they met Peter's they crinkled in that award-winning smile that he saved just for his kid.

"Hey, Roo," he croaked tenderly, if one can do such a thing.

Peter could tell he was searching for an explanation. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and letting some of the tension finally leave his body. "You got whammied pretty hard. I was hurt worse, but Helen said that it was over exertion. You can't go out as Iron Man as often anymore, Tony. We did talk about that, I remember. Rhodey and Happy sat you down on the Shame Sofa and everything."

His father raised a brow, reaching to press the button that adjusted the hospital bed. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," he grinned. "Everything was mostly surface level, and you know those bleed worse than anything else. Helen gave me some stiches on my arm, but everything'll be scarred over by Thursday, if Karen is to be trusted."

Tony seemed satisfied with that answer and settled back into the bed to watch him. He did that a lot nowadays. Ever since he had gotten Peter back, and even more since officially adopting him. He would sit in the lab sometimes and just… watch. Take in everything that was Peter. Four years ago it would have embarrassed him. Now it just made him smile. To know that someone could spend hours just looking at him, loving him, made him want to cry.

How could the others not see that? How could they think Tony would ever put Peter's life in danger?

His phone dinged, signaling a message from Happy. He glanced down and sighed.

_They're all in their rooms and have calmed down. Rhodey's at the door keeping watch._

"What's with that face?" Tony's tone had morphed into thinly veiled concern. He reached forward and hooked his hand through his kid's. A grounding tether.

"The, um..." Suddenly insecurity flared in the face of a lack of need to defend. He had been defending Tony's decision earlier, even though it seemed that he was defending himself. Now, since the others were hidden and away, he found himself nervous. "The others were, uh, less than pleased that I was... here."

Tony's eyes lit with an angry flame. "What?"

"They weren't particularly pleased that I was Spiderman. Called me a little kid and all that. It's not a big deal," Peter waved his free hand as if that would disperse the anxieties around his mind.

The hand intertwined with his tightened. "What did they say?"

"Just stupid stuff."

"It's not stupid if it makes you doubt yourself."

Peter swallowed. "Natasha said something about me not being a real hero because I didn't understand the severity of this way of life. That I wouldn't consider myself on the same level as you and them. I know it isn't true. I know that I'm a hero, deep down, it's just, well, you get it. Years of insecurity don't go away just because you love me. It's a long process."

Tony was trying to get Peter to look at him, but he was staring at their hands, trying to force his tears to disappear. "Did you tell them off?"

He snorted wetly. "Yeah."

Tony reached up and rested his hand on Peter's cheek, softly stroking his thumb across the freckles that were dotted there. The younger finally met his father's gaze and all he saw there was love. Deep, unconditional _love_. "Good boy."

Peter smiled softly and leaned into the comforting touch. "I try."

"No you don't," Tony whispered gently. Peter was shocked to see tears gathering in those eyes, those adoring, kind eyes. "It's just who you are."

Peter's breath hitched at the genuine honesty in his guardian's tone. It was not flattery, it was not simple nonsense words. Tony believed that. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he breathed.

"You scared me," Peter admitted softly.

"I'm sorry," Tony replied, just as soft and just as honest.

"I forgive you," The kid rolled his shoulders and placed _The Hobbit_ on the nearby table. "It just means I get cuddle privileges for a week."

"You always get cuddle privileges." Tony hummed, amusement coloring his tone even as he helped Peter get situated on the bed next to him.

The kid burrowed into his father's side, _his_ place, and looked up at those adoring eyes. Sometimes Tony would ask how he had gotten so lucky with Peter. What god he had helped that would grant him such an amazing kid, such a good child. How he had managed to be given the chance to be part of Peter's life, of his heart, of his love.

Peter wondered the same.

How did he get so damn lucky?

"That's because I'm your son."

Tony's breath hitched. Oh, yeah. They had not approached the "dad" and "son" topic yet. Not the title part yet, at least. The emotional part? In spades, but the words just made it more… official. Not that either of them was against it, but Tony Stark was infamous for his emotional constipation and something about the verbal acknowledgement by means of "dad" and "son" hit differently. Tony's father had been awful, and Peter had a history of losing father figures. Perhaps they were both afraid that it was taboo.

Peter swallowed. He did not want to waste time just because he was afraid. They had both done that before Thanos. If today had gone differently, Tony might never have gotten to hear Peter call him "Dad" ever. Was either of their pride or fear worth the sacrifice of such declarations of love?

Tony saved him from answering those big questions. "Well, what kind of Dad would I be if I refused my kid's cuddles?"

And that was that.

Rhodey and Happy grinned from outside the door, and the Colonel discreetly slid a ten-dollar bill into the bodyguard's waiting hand.

"Told you it would be before the anniversary," he grinned, but it was soft.

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm still betting they're gonna weep on the anniversary."

"That's not a bet, James. That's a guarantee."


End file.
